Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
The door swings open. Aurora wears panic all over her face, her hand splayed atop the side of her neck.
“Are you hurt?” I reach for her, tugging at her hand.
“I don’t know,” she says, letting her hand fall.
The force of a bullet hits my chest. I stumble back a few steps, barely hearing Annika’s gasp as she sees Aurora’s neck.
Ink spreads and swirls in the exact shape of a mating mark, identical to the mark that decorates my neck too.
“Is this your mark or his?” Aurora asks, tears lining her eyes.
I keep backing away, unable to grab onto one coherent thought racing through my mind.
“Saint.” She follows me. “Please,” she begs. “Please, tell me this is your mark.”
I open and close my mouth a few times. If fate had linked us together, I’d feel it, right? I’ve lived around enough mated couples to know there are signs. Did I miss them? I search inward, only finding the ice I’ve encased my heart in since before we went into stasis.
“Saint,” Aurora snaps.
“For fuck’s sake, say something.” Annika wraps her arms around a now trembling Aurora.
I lock my gaze, my very being, onto Aurora, desperate for an answer. She’s begging me to tell her it’s my mark, but Samuel and I are identical twins in every way, right down to the brand on our necks.
“I…” I reach her opened door, shaking my head. “I don’t know.”
Aurora folds into Annika’s arms, a sob wrenching from her lips that rips me to shreds. I turn my back on her, her panicked cries following me as I try to outrun this new fate.
Either Aurora is my brother’s mate…
Or she’s mine.
And neither of those outcomes is good enough for her.
CHAPTER 2
Aurora
“Drink!” Samuel’s command reverberates in my skull. “Drink,” he demands. “It’s the only way this will stop.”
This being excruciating pain. My body is on fire, a thousand needles dripping with acid piercing my skin, my muscles, my soul. I can barely think or breathe around the pain. It’s been like this for hours, weeks, months. I’ve lost track of time since he took me. Since he chained me in this room, biting me, draining me within an inch of life only to heal me.
He’s done it a dozen times. Forced me to drink his blood twice already. I try to withstand him. Try to refuse him. But the pain. I just want it to stop. I just want to die.
“Please,” I beg through my gnashed teeth. “Let me die.”
“Die? You’re not going to die. You’re going to live. You’re going to be mine for an eternity.”
I shiver, my stomach rolling.
“I know you want the pain to stop.” His hands are on me now, stroking my face, my arm, hauling me into his lap. “You can stop it.” He holds his wrist to my lips, a surgically pristine wound there. “Drink.”
Ice replaces the searing acid inside my bones. A freezing terror that draws at the very marrow of my body. I convulse involuntarily, a new wave of torture rippling over me. I want to die. I want to slip into the ether where I’ll forget all of this.
“Drink.” He shoves that wound against my lips. A drop rolls into my mouth, and the icy pain lessons.
It’s such a relief. My tongue lashes out on instinct, my body doing what it must to survive. I try to remember why I shouldn’t do this but can’t.
“More.” He shoves his wrist harder against my lips, his blood free flowing into my mouth.
It slides down my throat, and I finally swallow. Once, twice, enough times that I forget who or what I am. The pain ebbs, and tears roll down my cheeks.
“Good,” he says, ripping his wrist away. “That’s very good.” He moves away from me, and the chains locking me to the wall rattle as my arms drop. “You’ll turn soon.”
My eyes snap to his as my heart sputters, the beats out of sync…
No.
“You’ll be like me,” he says, bending down to meet my gaze. He smiles. It’s a charming smile. I hate it. I hate him. “And you’ll be mine.”
I jolt upright in bed, cold sweat beading on my skin. My breath is almost too fast to catch, my heart stumbling over itself as it tries to regain a normal rhythm. I rub my hand across my neck, doing my best to ground myself in reality.
The bed I’ve slept in since moving into the king’s residence cushions my trembling body, the silk sheets crisp against my skin. The room is filled with familiar smells—books and jasmine and citrus. I’m here. In my room. Not there. Not chained up.
A nightmare. Just another nightmare. Samuel isn’t here. You’re safe. You’re safe. The words sound like Saint’s voice in my mind, but when I look at the armchair in the corner of my room, he’s not there. His usual spot is empty, and the vacancy pinches my chest.